29 January 2015

It's Beyond Me


When I was a young girl, maybe 8 or 9 years old, my friend invited me to go to the Y with her and her mom.

I didn't know how to swim, but being a tall kid, I usually managed to keep my head above water and had a good time in the pool.

Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly aware of what my height was, because I jumped in the pool at a spot where it was way too deep.

And by "way too deep," I don't mean it was super deep. But it was over my head.

I remember gasping for air, waving my arms frantically, and swallowing a whole lot of water. It was a terrifying, desperate, out-of-control feeling.

To this day I am not a big fan of being underwater.

. . .

I was driving down the road last week, on my way to somewhere I don't remember, and I thought, "Wow...I am so tired. And I've been tired for a while now."

I try to be positive on my blog and in my FB updates about this crazy adventure we're on, but truthfully, it's exhausting. It seems like every day we hear something new from our adoption agency. Great news one day, terrible news the next. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Rollercoasters ain't got nothing on this ride.

Sometimes I feel like throwing in the towel. I hate to admit that, but I do. And then I remember the sweet faces of three Ethiopian kids. A brother and two sisters who don't have a mom or a dad. Who don't have a home. Who don't have stability. Who don't have the love of a family.

And so we press on.

This song says it all.

16 January 2015

Bribery

Twenty-five years ago I was a college-aged student teaching English in Eastern Europe. It was soon after the fall of Communism, and anything seemed possible.

My team and I decided to take a jaunt from Bulgaria, where we were stationed, across the beautiful blue Danube River, and spend the weekend in Romania.

Romania was fascinating. They'd had a bloody revolution just a few years earlier, and the buildings were still riddled with bullet holes. We visited a cemetary filled with graves of young men and women, most of whom were the same age as us, who had died fighting for freedom.

The trip back to Bulgaria was tricky. Long story short...we didn't want to wait for the train to cross the border, so we decided to walk across the bridge into Bulgaria. This had been done previously with no problem, but this time Romanian border guards, outfitted with Soviet sub-machine guns, were not accommodating.

As a twenty-something full of nationalistic pride, I truly believed the American dollar could solve most problems. And truth be known, so far in my journeys it had. But these guards were different. They were offended and angered that we though we could "buy" our way across the bridge. (Maybe $20 wasn't enough?!)

They took our passports, forced us into a border office of sorts, and let us sweat it out. Literally. For hours. Finally they pushed us on to a terribly overcrowded tour bus, threw our passports at us, and told the bus driver to take us across the border.

They never did take our money.

I thought of this story this afternoon while talking to our international adoption case worker. Our adoption of three siblings from Ethiopia has come to a seeming stand still. We need documentation that the regional government exhausted all local options for our children before signing off on their international adoption. The federal government is requiring it. Unfortunately, that piece of documentation was not required when the regional office signed off, and the regional office is no longer issuing ANY papers for international adoption from their region, so basically we're at a stand-off.

The Feds say we must have the document. The Regional office refuses to give it. The Feds say, "Keep trying to get it. One phone call or one letter is not enough."

Our agency tells the Feds, "We have tried and tried to get it. They are refusing."

The Feds say, "Try again."

Our agency says, "Think about the best interest of the children. Think about the hundreds of pages of documentation and eye witness testimony we have provided that say these children have been in institutional care for seven years. Their parents are deceased. Extended family members have appeared in court and said they are unable to care for them and they are OK with an international adoption."

The Feds say, "Try again to get the paper."

The Region says, "No."

And so round and round we go.

A dear friend offered to give us the money to fly over their ourselves to sort this out. Another sweet friend said she would be willing to go over there and see what she could do.

But here's the thing: Ethiopian culture is not like our culture. The more pressure we put on them, the more they feel backed into a corner, and the more resistance they put up.

Our team in Ethiopia have several contacts within the Ethiopian government. The agency's African director, and Ethiopian man, is well respected and has worked through situations like this before. But it takes time. Sometimes lots of time. But because he is Ethiopian, he knows the cultural aspect that we as Americans don't understand.

If it were up to me, I'd contact my congressional representatives and have them put pressure on the Ethio government. I'd start a petition and have all 400 of my Facebook friend sign it. I'd demand they hand over these children.

Or, if I got really desperate, I might consider throwing money at the situation. Because the might American dollar solves everything...right?

But that wouldn't work. It would probably make things worse. (And if the money did work, I'd have to live with the knowledge that I contributed to systemic unethical adoptions...which is really human trafficking...)

Today I was brainstorming/commiserating with a friend, and we were thinking about who we knew that could help with the situation. Later in the afternoon, I thought of someone.

His power is greatly underestimated, and yet He alone can change the hearts of those in authority.

He could change the hearts of those at the regional level, and put it upon them to submit the necessary document.

He could change the hearts of the federal authorities, and put it upon them to think about the best interests of the children, and release them without this paper.

Or He could do something entirely different, a solution that my finite mind has not yet considered.

---

So many of you are praying. Cousins and aunts and uncles in California and Texas and Florida and Connecticut. A Sunday School class in Fort Lauderdale. Grandmas and grandpas in Texas and Illinois. Friends in Colombia and Iran and Wheaton and Elmhurst. Friends at Faith Baptist Church in Winfield. Lifelong friends from Harvard Ave. and Willowbrook. And countless Facebook friends and acquaintances.

Our three Ethiopian children very well may be the most-prayed for children in the world.

But could we humbly ask you to keep praying? Every kid deserves to be in a family.

In my moments of doubt, I start thinking this is never going to happen. I can see what God has done to get us this far, but I also know of other families that have gotten this far and everything has fallen through.

Our social worker has assured me today that they are not giving up. That's not their style. But sometimes my fears overtake my sensibilities. I look at the photos of these three and think it's too good to be true--that they could be ours, and we could be theirs.

But God.

I know all things are possible, but we need God's gracious hand to move. I'm trying to be patient, but I also want the healing to begin. I want to see the redemption that is going to happen.

07 January 2015

Finally...A White Christmas!

Merry Christmas!
Melkam Genna!

መልካም ገና

Today is Christmas in Ethiopia! And it's a white Christmas (but only here in Chicagoland). Ethiopians follow the Julian Calender, so Christmas falls on January 7.

 I wished Jackson a Merry Christmas today, and after some strange looks by him and an explanation by me, he asked, "Do Lucia and Mary and David have a Christmas tree up?"

 No, probably not.

Christmas in Ethiopia is celebrated very differently than here in the United States. I was going to summarize what I've learned, but this website explains it so well that I decided to simply copy and paste. 

*I don't know if this is exactly how our kids are celebrating today, 
but this is the traditional celebration. 
My guess is that just like every family in the U.S. has their own 
variation on Christmas, so do folks in Ethiopia.*

 

Many people fast on Christmas Eve (January 6th). At dawn on the morning of Genna, people get dressed in white. Most people wear a traditional garment called a shamma. It's a thin white cotton piece of cloth with brightly colored stripes across the ends. It's worn like a toga. If you live in a big town or city you might wear 'western' clothes. The early Genna mass starts at 4.00am!


The Ethiopian capital city is Addis Ababa. It's a modern city. Most people who live outside big cities live in round house made of mud-plastered walls which have thatched cone-shaped roofs. Sometimes houses in the country are rectangular and made of stone.


The design of Ethiopian Church is similar to the houses. In the country, they are often very old and have been carved out of rock. In cities, modern churches are built in three circles, each within the others.



 The choir sings from the outer circle. Everyone who goes to church for the Genna celebrations is given a candle. The people walk around the church three times in a solemn procession, holding the candles. They then go to the second circle to stand during the service. The men and boys are separated from the women and girls. The center circle is the most important and holy place in the church and is where the priest serves the Holy Communion or mass.

It's also a tradition that one of the Wise Men who visited Jesus came from Ethiopia.
Around the time of Genna, the men and boys play a game that is also called genna. It's played with a curved stick and a round wooden ball, a bit like hockey.

Traditional Christmas foods in Ethiopia include wat which is a thick and spicy stew that contains meat, vegetables and sometimes eggs (sounds yummy!). Wat is eaten on a 'plate of injera' - a flat bread. Pieces of the injera are used as an edible spoon to scoop up the wat.


Twelve days after Genna, on 19th January, Ethiopians start the three day celebration of Timkat. It celebrated the baptism of Jesus. Children walk to church services in a procession. They wear the crowns and robes of the church youth groups that they belong to. Adults wear the shamma. The priests wear red and white robes and carry embroidered fringed umbrellas.

Musical instruments are played during the Timkat procession. The sistrum is a percussion instrument with tinkling metal disks a bit like a vertical tambourine. A makamiya, a long T-shaped prayer stick is used to keep the rhythm and is also used by the priests and a stick to lean on during the long Timkat church service!

Ethiopian men also play a sport called yeferas guks. It's played on horseback and the men throw ceremonial lances at each other (sounds rather dangerous!).

People don't give and receive present during Genna and Timkat. Sometimes children might be given a small gift of some clothes from their family members. It's more a time for going to church, eating lots and playing games!

So from the Doman home to yours, Melkam Genna!

(Interesting tidbit: On all the children's paperwork that we have received lately, their last name is listed as Doman. I like that.)